‘I’ll put the legal department on to it,’ Óðinn said, scribbling a note.

‘Gunnar, we’ll be treating this as the highest level of security risk as long as this man is free,’ Boris said. ‘You make the necessary arrangements, ensuring the children don’t answer the door alone, that sort of thing. Then there’s the question of getting the security camera fitted outside so they can see who rings the doorbell. It’s a disgrace how long that’s taking.’ Boris tapped notes on his tablet as he spoke.

Gunnar nodded.

‘I’ll go over all this stuff with the whole family this evening,’ he said to Úrsúla. ‘I’ll inform the school and your husband that I’ll collect the children for the next few days and bring them home.’ He turned to Óðinn. ‘We can co-ordinate that with the minister’s schedule, can’t we?’

‘Of course,’ Óðinn said. ‘Our primary priorities are the minister’s security, and alleviating any concerns she has about her family’s safety.’

Úrsúla felt a wave of gratitude, because Óðinn was taking this development so seriously, which told her that this really was something 104grave, and not least because he appeared to have forgiven her for the day before.

‘There’s something I’m wondering about,’ Úrsúla began, and the men all looked up. This was the first time since they had sat down that she had spoken. ‘Could I get information on Pétur’s detention, or rather, his treatment? It occurred to me that I have no idea how long he was in detention at Sogn, or what his medical notes say about his condition when he was released; whether or not he was considered dangerous.’

Óðinn nodded and made another note, while Boris again tapped at his tablet. Then they all stood up. Óðinn nodded to her before he opened the door and went out into the corridor, but Boris stopped in the doorway and turned to Úrsúla.

‘There’s one more thing,’ he said thoughtfully. ‘Do you know who this devil is that Pétur seems to be warning you about?’

43

Boris’s question had echoed at the back of her mind all morning, but without properly becoming the subject of her attention: Who is he, this devil?

She had lunch sent up to her office and ate it while going through the South Coast Highway documents, but there was nothing in the paperwork that linked Ingimar Magnússon to the project. The usual due-diligence research into the financial backers merely showed overseas ownership. If Ingimar really was financing part of the road construction, then they would have to cancel it. She would have to find a way out of this – some way out of the trap.

Then there had been a visit by a group from the Coast Guard to discuss the possibility of increasing government funding. They had been accompanied by a corpulent, red-haired official called Adolf who lobbied so hard on their behalf that the Coast Guard people had been embarrassed. 105

‘This is something that has to happen,’ he had said with finality at the end of the meeting, standing up and taking a position at the door so that Úrsúla, who had intended to politely usher the guests out into the corridor herself, and to use the opportunity to go for a smoke, wasn’t able to get past him.